


I Double Dare

by cassie_e



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_e/pseuds/cassie_e
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He looks kind of angry, Dean." "I kind of figured that out, Sam."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Double Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Ah. Bitten my own device/bunnie of my making, just like Dean in this fic. No Impalas were really injured in the writing of this fic. :smiles: Kudos to jebbypal who answered my Impala bunnie request. She's fab, fabulicous. Word.
> 
> I now know no sleep and need to finish logo. This is what happens when I ignore the writing muse. Blah, unbetaed at the moment, and ranging at 2,841 words. 9 pages roughly. Pre equal of sorts, sort of. After Mary's death. Dean is sixteen, and Sam 12. I have no fucking clue where this came from. One mintue plotting for Vm/SPN crossover, then work on logo, then jebbypal wrote me fic and umm...damn
> 
> I drew a lot from being a younger sibling and just being a brat, really. typos and grammer faux all my fault. I tried writing in umm present tense this time, um got confused. :is sad:

 

 

It started out with a dare; subsequently Dean blames it on Sammy, you can't say no to a dare after all. Especially when the dare was taunted by one's younger sibling, who was growing more obnoxious as each year passed by. That was the case one hot afternoon as they were left to their own devices when their father hunted some animal/thing that was crushing people to death. The whole heads bashed in and bodies pulverized thing. John thought it was a breed of cannibalistic troll, that was discussion over breakfast of fruit loops and Jimmy Dean sausage patties. Dean shoved a piece into his mouth as he pondered a way to convince his father to lend him the car.

Dean was sixteen, and well, he wanted to drive, take the car so speak, to take Susan Moran out to a flick and maybe, just maybe get some action. He was hoping to get to third base this time. He loved his little brother to death; Dean just didn't want to spend another evening babysitting his kid brother, watching Tale Spin and Chip 'N' Dale Rescue Rangers. Not after the way Susan had smiled that secret feline grin as she teased him with her foot under the diner table the other day. He figured, now a little older Sam could handle using the .45, just one night. Dean lied to himself; he would be okay one night, a few hours. He tries to forget that one incident a long time ago, feels the guilt rush up and consume, but shuts it out.

He didn't care for normal, it was overrated, but he couldn't help feel the need to live the lie once in a while. Just like Sam. He tells himself he isn't jealous at times, no just the protective need to take care of his brother. Dean knows better, he's older, so he's learned not to want. That wasn't the role for him. All wanting ended the night of their mother's death and he carried his little baby brother in his arms.

Sam watches across the table with a knowing smirk as he debates whether to ask his father for the car. Dean throws him a glare and grabs the last sausage patty from Sam as a stand of retribution. Sam sticks out his tongue at him. John stops talking, noticing that he wasn't being listened to. He looks at his two sons, annoyed bemusement that they weren't paying attention. "What is the matter with you two?"

"Nothing, Dad," Dean begins, looks down at his plate. "Actually umm, sir, I was wondering if I can borrow…the car."

The Impala was one of John Winchester's sacred belongings, second to his love for family and passion for hunting things that went bump in the night, afternoon and morning (they preferred the night, even supernatural beings like stereotypes and clichés). No one touched the car; they weren't supposed to eat in it, usually stopping somewhere to eat outside. That or their free time was spent cleaning it, and that wasn't so bad, but when demon or road kill sludge was caked on the grill or on the hood, well, then fun time was over. And fun time, for the brothers Winchester was very rare, if you didn't consider shooting monsters with a two by four fun, which Dean did. Sammy was still a bit squeamish, ammunition for Dean to rib his kid brother with in one their verbal sparring matches.

John just looks at Dean, just stares a bit till he's squirming in his chair. Dean shrugs and mutters a nevermind. Satisfied that his message got across, John finishes up his bowl of grits.

"Guess Susan is going to be disappointed." Sam shoots back, happily munching on fruit loops. "Dean and Susan kiss…" he is thwarted as Dean throws a fruit loop hitting him smack on the forehead. "Oww, you…" Sam begins, but is thrown The Stare from John.

"Dean quit pelting your brother with breakfast. You can't have the car. Sammy quit baiting Dean."

"I promise I'll be careful with it." Dean argues, "I got my license Da..sir, I am qualified driver. Not a scratch will be on it, sir. I promise."

"Probably crash into a mailbox." Sam says flicking the loop back across the table. "Dean has a box of condoms under his bed. He and Sus.."

Dean practically growls, embarrassed. "Shut up, Sam."

John shakes his head, uncomfortable at the last remark from his youngest son. "No. You need to watch Sam while I go with Nick on the hunt for this thing."

Dean resists to the urge to be sullen, instead looks with murder in his eyes across the table. Sam is smug, takes the last biscuit from the table. He mouths silently to his younger brother, "You're dead."

"Dad, Dean just…"

"Enough!" John places his spoon firmly on the table. "Both of you." He stands from the table and gathers his jacket. "I expect the dishes to be washed when I come back, Sam do your homework, Dean, you watch your brother. Try not to get…no do not get into any trouble."

He pauses, and looks at Dean. "We'll talk when I get back." There were times when he never missed Mary more then he did now. The Talk wasn't something he didn't think he would have to deal with. He figured the boys were smart enough to figure things out on their own. Clearly he missed a few important details. He needed to warn Dean on creatures such as the succubus and other things that thrive on sexual energies, usually killing their victims by draining their life force. Which for some wasn't such a bad way to go.

Dean groans as the door shuts, a second passes before he gets up from the table. Sam watches him warily like prey before its execution. He dumps the dishes in the sink and turns around, and Sam is out of his seat before Dean takes another step. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he runs across the cabin living room, his older brother in pursuit. "You're so dead, twerp!"

John Winchester sighs as he hears the commotion outside and heads on over to his friend's cabin for the search of the troll. He takes the sawed off shot gun and case of bullets and a wicked bowie knife. The sun catches a gleam as light bounces back on it. Inside the cabin comes a loud crash and a thud and John considers the punishment for the mess when he gets back. That is if they still haven't killed each other when he did.

"I am bored. Dean, I am bored." Sam protests, whining, he looks up from the couch. "Are you still mad?"

Dean glares as he picks up the remains of the vase. He doesn't bother telling his older brother it was probably an antique and they are both dead when dad returned. John's friend was well off and eccentric enough for interesting hobbies, one of those, things of the unknown and hodge podge of collections of weird ass shit. "Shut up."

"I am sorry." Sam relents, feeling bad enough to apologize. "And it isn't like he was going to let you drive it." A thought runs in his head, he begins to grin. "You know what, Dean?"

"What?" Dean asks wearily dumping the china pieces in the trash; they chime as they hit the dull container.

"I dare you."

"Dare me what, dork?" Dean shoves his feet from the couch and makes room for himself.

"Drive Dad's car. He left the keys." Sam sings along, pointing to key caddy on the wall. "Bet you won't do it. You always do what he says."

"I do not. And no. Are you crazy?" Dean hits his brother on the head, "I like being alive, thank you very much."

"Knew it. Wimp." Sam rubs his head, "You shouldn't have left the receipt lying around, you know."

"I…what?"

"The condoms."

"Sammy…don't."

"Plus you always hide your stuff under the bed, so…" Sam continues.

Dean gives his brother an undignified stare as he flips on the TV, General Hospital theme blared on. "I do not hide everything…well, so what, you're not supposed to tell Dad. That's something…you don't tell. Never. But I'll get you back, just watch."

"I dare you. I double dare you." Sam says, ignores the threat. "I'll do the dishes for a month if you do."

Dean surfs through the channels, ignores the prodding of the dare. The itch forms and he needs to scratch. The wanting, needing of maybe once acting out his age. Of not being the older brother. He looks over and answers, "Dishes for a month. And you do car cleaning duty."

Sam grins, "Fine, let's go!"

Dean laughs as he gets up and grabs the keys. "Who says you're going?"

"That's not fair!" Sam protests, "It's my dare!"

"You said drive Dad's car, not that you had to come along. Next time get the specifics right, Sammy boy." He grabs his jacket from the rack and whistles, swinging the keys around on his finger. As he opens the door, Sam stops him with a threat of his own.

"I'll tell."

Dean frowns. "You won't. You better not."

"Try me." Sam leans back on the couch, crosses his arm smugly.

"Can we go to Mike's Diner? Please, please!" Sam whines, changing the radio station from Dean's Metallica tape. The tape stops abruptly, rudely ejected from the slot.

"No." Dean feels sweat on his spine and his hands tighten on the wheel; he knows he's going to get caught. John was going to murder them and bury them beside the cabin. He looks in the rearview mirror and expects that any moment for their father to come into view with the shot gun.

The sun was setting early and Dean figures they'll be out an hour and a half. Plenty of time to make it back before Dad did.

He relents and stops by Mike's Diner, gives Sam a bag of quarters for him to play at the arcade. And then finds Susan winking at him at one of the tables. Dean grins, jingles the keys at her, she giggles launching at him. Blonde curls bounced, among other 'things' as she smacked her lips on his. "I thought you weren't gonna show, hot stuff."

Sam stares, makes a disgusted groan and mouths, "Hot stuff?"

Dean gives him the finger, "I'll be back in an hour. Don't leave here, got it, dork?"

"Whatever." Sam turns around to head for the games.

"Sammy, I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah."

Sam gives a bored sigh as he waits on a stool. The diner is empty, the cook and waitress are in deep conversation whether Luke and Laura will ever get it right. He's used up his quarters and his stomach was growling, hungry. Looking at the clock, Dean is two hours late. He worries and hopes his brother didn't meet some uncertain fate. He didn't like Susan, knew she was the same type of girl you find any almost any small town. Plus, she could be vampire, or some other thing. Not that Sam minded not suspecting that everything that moved wasn't supernaturally minded, like his dad and Dean like to do.

He spots the Impala in the distance. Sam jumps from the stool and runs out, the bells ringing as the door slams shut.

Dean parks and calls out, "Hurry up."

Sam climbs in and notices the dent on the passenger side. "Dean…"

"Don't, just don't…"

"Where did Susan go?"

Dean bit out. "She left… with some guy."

"But I thought…" Sam was confused.

"I forgot them, okay. And it isn't any of your business."

"What happened to the door…you forgot? How could you forget?"

Dean irritated, snaps, "I forgot them, okay, Sam. And I am not talking about this with you. Ever."

"Why are you so late? If you know…"

Dean turns up the radio up louder. "I got lost."

"So you forgot them and got lost." Sam pestered on, "Do you think Dad…"

"Hopefully not."

"He's gonna notice the…"

"For crying out loud, Samuel, shut up." Dean slams the breaks in the middle of the deserted road. "This is your fault."

"How is my fault?"

Dean bangs on the stirring wheel, lowers his head on it in defeat. "It was your dare. And…and it just is, damnit."

Sam looks out in front of the road and his eyes go wide. "Dean."

"What?"

"Umm, what's that thing in the road?"

Dean looks up and finds the hideous monstrous figure of something a few short feet away, he's pretty sure it's the troll. Judging by the gleam in his eye, it looked hungry—and Dean had the feeling they were on its dinner menu. There was a dull thud on the roof the Impala, a heavy metal bang and quickly the thing launched itself on the hood, cracking the glass. They both scream, yelling as the thing snapped its jaws, hissing at them.

Sam snaps his eyes shut and Dean punches on the gas pedal. The car screeches forward, but the troll hangs on stubbornly. Its partner on the roof growls and bangs again with its club, as it falls off. Dean reverses and runs over it, hitting it a full velocity, there is an unpleasant squishing sound and the car rocks from the force. The one on the hood continues to hit the window and the glass is close to shattering.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck. Sammy get the Smith and Wesson." Dean shifts the gear forward and begins running at full speed on the abandoned road, he tries to lose the thing with some zig zag maneuvers, but it won't budge, hanging on tighter, intent on its newly found prey.

Sam shrinks away, even as he moves to get the hand gun from the glove department. He turns the safety off and tries to hand the gun to Dean.

"Shoot at it, damnit, Sam."

"At the window? Dad will freak out. He'll kill us."

"Well, this thing will be doing us the favor of not being present when it happens if you don't fucking shoot, Sammy!"

Sam aims the gun and fires, his ears ringing from the sound. The glass shatters, piece sticking in his face, caused by the whipping speed of the car. The bullet hits the troll dead center, it falls off, leaving claw mark scratched on the hood. There was another thud on the roof again and a claw like arm punches through and grabs hold of Dean. He starts yell as the claws rip through his shoulder. "Shoot it, shoot it!"

Sam points the gun at arm, but he is jostled about as Dean sped up, wavering into the forest path. Dean opens his eyes wide at the sight on the barrel at his temple. "Don't shoot me, shoot it. The roof, Sam, the roof!"

He aims up and pulls the trigger twice. The hand twitches once and relaxes its grip, but not before the car goes over a heavy tree branch, ripping the creature from its arm. The arm slides down between the front seats, Sam yelps, and accidentally pulls the trigger again, bullet hitting the back window.

At Dean's look, he says, "Oops." Sam glances forward and sees the incoming tree, "Dean, watch out for the…"

Dean turns around and yells, hitting the breaks, the Impala is not lucky though, as they crash into the heavy oak bark. Their heads whipped forward on impact, seat belts biting into skin. The air bag release open, bruising Dean's nose and chin, he groans. "Sammy, Sam, you okay?"

Sam nods off, eyes wide. "Umm, yeah, I think so."

"Good, good." Dean rubs his face and arm, "Shit. Goddamn it."

"Dean?"

"What now, Sam?"

Sam points up ahead to show shocked John a few feet away, shot gun hanging limply from his hand. Nick, the hunting buddy has trouble keeping his mouth closed as he gaps at the sight of the Impala smashed into the tree and two young drivers inside.

Dean feels the sinking feeling in his stomach as John's shock slowly turns to anger.

"Dean?" Sam looks at his father and then brother. "He looks pretty angry, Dean."

"I am kind of figuring that out, Sam."

"Are we gonna die?"

Dean swallows the fear down his throat. "Probably." He watches as his father's expression wavers between rage and sorrow, the latter he knew it was for the car's condition. The older man's hands run over the crumpled grill.

Sam considers his brother's words thoughtfully. "But hey, we killed the trolls at least?"

"Yeah, Sam, I don't that's going to cut it this time."

"Dean?"

"Shut up, Sam."

 **Finis**


End file.
